Hazy Sentimentalism

Collage by Azul.

You frequently confessed

your antipathy to me,

"I'll leave soon,"

the words abandoned your mouth 

with ease

but it lingered in my heart, 

just like the warm embrace

you often locked me into,

as an ache

or sometimes a sting.

Does the bitterness of your words

last on your tongue

after you've served them 

 on a silver platter pleasantly

for me to consume?

I break the deafening silence:

"Don't you know of

your value in my heart?

The sight of your belongings

in this house only reminds me 

of their future absence."

Your eyes soften,

it seems that you've finally realized

the weight of your words.

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